Absolution
by Scripta Lexicona
Summary: A collection of unrelated fics. Fuller summary inside. XI. The Small Print. Raito always has a great deal to say to L. Too bad he's not around to hear it.
1. I Intro

AN: If you've read any of my other Death Note stuff, you're probably aware of my utter obsession with Muse songs relating to DN. I think this is the natural extension of that. I plan on writing a fic for each track on my favorite album, Absolution.

These are not songfics. I have at least a little bit of plot for each one and most are actually more inspired by either the title or the tone of the piece. If I feel the lyrics are appropriate, I'll probably include them with that fic.

I know I've used some of these songs already, especially for Phyxation (and you can't tell me that Thoughts of a Dying Atheist wasn't _perfect_), but this is going to be very different. I'm considering this an exercise, both to get out some of these plot bunnies as well as exploring different writing styles and characters.

The outside rating is set to T for now, but it will probably need to go up at some point. Before each piece, I'll give the proper rating, genre, summary and anything else that might be pertinent. If you want me to mention what characters will predominantly feature, let me know and I will.

There will be BL of varying degrees in some of these. I'll post proper warnings and all that.

Alright then, enough babbling! Off we go!

* * *

**Title: **Intro

**Rating: **K

**Genre: **Family/Hurt/Comfort

**Summary: **There was just _one_ boy who could ruffle even patient Watari's feathers.

**Warnings: **Name spoilers.

* * *

Wammy was, by nature, a very patient person. It was never something he had to strive for and was a particularly useful trait for the occupations in which he engaged himself – namely, inventing and caring for children. At first glance, perhaps, two very different things, but Wammy never found them to be so. To do each required skill, care, understanding, intelligence, will and, of course, patience. So much patience.

_Stomp stomp stomp. Slam._

It had been commented many times how utterly unflappable he was, how he could rival the saints themselves for his steadfast temperament and general air of serenity.

_Stomp-stomp. Crash. Stomp stomp stomp._

But apparently even reliable, steadfast, serene, patient St. Wammy had his limits. And there was one boy who seemed to excel at reaching and surpassing them. Actually, with him it was practically an art form.

_Bang. Slam. Stomp-stomp. Bang._

Wammy's eye twitched and the pen in his hand paused above the sheaf of papers he was attempting to work his way through. He took a deep, calming breath—

_STOMP STOMP STOMP._

—and expelled it in a yell.

"_Lawliet!_" A few miraculously silent moments later, a pair of large grey eyes topped by a rather untidy mass of raven-black hair appeared around the doorjamb. Though the expression on his face was placid enough, those eyes were defiant pieces of hematite.

"Will you please," Wammy requested in an admirably even tone, "cease whatever it is that you are doing?"

"I'm just standing here," the boy responded with just the right touch of deliberate ignorance to have Wammy's irritation raising another couple of notches. With a sigh he beckoned Lawliet into the room, gesturing for him to take the chair in front of the desk. The child wordlessly obeyed, to all appearances meekly, but Wammy recognized the recalcitrant hunch of the thin shoulders under his over-sized grey shirt.

Lawliet shuffled quietly to the chair, taking a seat and pulling his legs up in front of him, looking even smaller than usual, and Wammy felt a pang of sorrow. Because he _was_ so small and so fragile in some ways. He was extremely quiet – well, except for these rare tantrums which only manifested in Wammy's presence. He didn't speak much to anyone else, didn't socialize. Really, he seemed content to shun all other company … except Wammy's.

The situation was no good, for a number of reasons. Especially because of the child's high level of intelligence, which was no doubt the cause of today's little act of rebellion. Wammy felt that they were probably reaching a crossroad and he was going to need to figure out something to avoid Lawliet traveling down the wrong one.

"What is the problem?" he asked, steepling his fingers and resting his elbows on the desk. He was fairly certain he already knew the answer to the question but he wanted to see what the child's response would be.

"I don't understand why you wouldn't let me get involved with that case. I could have solved it! I just needed to get a look at the scene…."

Wammy frowned. "Please do not lie to me, Lawliet. I'm too old and experienced and you're too young and unskilled to do it with any kind of success. You understand perfectly the reason I could not allow that."

Lawliet seemed to pull in on himself even further, one thin hand peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve to pick idly at the hem of his jeans, the other wrapped around his tightly-curled toes.

"I'm bored, Wammy," he spoke softly, eyes on his fingers' purposeless activities. Wammy sighed – there it lay. The thing he was most concerned about with this particular boy. He was too smart for his own good and he needed an outlet for it. Unfortunately, the outlet he was most interested in and, truthfully, already seemingly quite adept at, was that of solving crimes. Of solving puzzles, observing clues, understanding the basic psychology of the way that certain human beings seemed to act. Wammy wished that it would have been almost anything else – but, of course, if wishes were horses….

"Lawliet, I would like to help you, I truly would, but you know that it just can't be done. First of all, it's far too dangerous. I cannot in good conscience allow a child to do what many skilled and capable adults lose their lives doing. And you could never convince the people you would need to that you are intelligent enough to even be listened to. I know differently, but I'm afraid all they would see is a child playing games." There was a long silence while Lawliet continued to pluck at the denim and Wammy watched him, trying to divine a solution to their mutual dilemma.

And then Lawliet looked up, intensity burning in his eyes and the tiniest of smiles showing at the corners of his mouth.

"What if … they _didn't_ see me? What if they didn't know it was me at all?" Another silence spun out but this one was born of revelation and furious thought. _What if they never saw him?_ It was certainly possible. If he could arrange for someone to act as Lawliet's liaison, his eyes and his voice … it could be ideal. And safe. If they could set up a proper system there would be no reason for him to ever have to truly reveal himself. The potentialities began branching out wildly now although Wammy tried to keep a rein on himself. After all, he still wasn't entirely sure this was the wisest of ideas. But….

He looked at Lawliet, the two locking stares and silently communicating. Lawliet was meeting his gaze unhesitatingly, open and undemanding, but Wammy could still see the plea buried there, the one which would never be voiced and which he knew the child would leave buried if Wammy advised him to do so. And what, exactly, would they gain if he took that course of action? Surely just greater frustration and restiveness. Not to mention a heinous waste of talent and lost benefit to the country.

No, not just the country. Wammy could see the future just as clearly as if there was a chart in front of him, connecting point to point in golden lines. If nurtured correctly, there was probably very little Lawliet could not accomplish, giving his aid not just to this country, but to any that requested his assistance. He could become a worldwide force. Not that Wammy would ever push him into such a thing if it was too much, but he suspected the child's natural ambitions would lead him to that position. So, then, there was really only one choice to be made.

Wammy smiled. "I believe we can make this work. I can set up a system that will allow you to communicate directly with those you need to without revealing your age, or even gender or nationality. And I can find someone to act as your intermediary—"

"I want you," Lawliet quietly interrupted. Another pause in the conversation as Wammy thought about this. He was a well-known figure throughout the world which would completely defeat the purpose of acting for someone who wished to be anonymous. However, he could alter himself just as he would do for Lawliet. And he indisputably_ would_ be the best person for the job. He knew the boy, and the less people they were forced to bring into their confidence, the better.

"I believe that will be sufficient," Wammy nodded. "Now, before we can begin any of this, we have to determine your course schedule. You will begin studying any and all fields related to criminology and familiarize yourself with the legal systems of the leading nations of the world, beginning, of course, with English law. You will need to improve your current speech, elevate it to sound like that of an adult's. You will also need to become proficient in as many languages as possible. Once you have a solid foundation, I will begin forming the contacts you will need.

"I also want you to start making an effort to socialize. You don't have to mean it, but it would be helpful for you to interact with others on a personal level and observe their reactions firsthand. And I would like you to choose some form of physical activity that you will practice at least three times a week – I'm not about to have you cooped up inside all day reading and wasting away. Acceptable?" It was demanding, terribly so for such a young person, Wammy knew it, but … this was Lawliet, after all. Not only would he undoubtedly want the challenge, he would need it. Indeed, his eyes seemed to be glittering already.

"Acceptable," he acquiesced.

"We shall need to determine an alias for you as well," Wammy mused. "It wouldn't do much good to hide your appearance but use your true name."

"I think I know what to use," Lawliet answered with one of his crafty little grins. He held up his left hand, palm toward Wammy, and laid his right index finger in the middle of it. The BSL sign for "L." Wammy couldn't help grinning back, feeling the chill of excitement he always did when he knew a particular project was going to be an extraordinary one.

"Very well, then. We will no longer use 'Lawliet', unless you would like to do so while we are alone." The child nodded, more in confirmation of understanding than an indication that he would like to do so. "You should pick a few names you would be comfortable using and responding when in other company. But, for now" – Wammy rose from the desk, coming around to stand in front of "L" with a smile – "I believe it is tea time. Would you like to accompany me to the kitchen?"

The boy unfurled himself and soundlessly followed Wammy out of his study and down the hall to the kitchen on the ground floor where L would probably stuff himself full of as many scones as Wammy would let him.

"Oh, and just one more thing," Wammy began, a hint of weariness entering his voice. The boy cocked his head up at Wammy to show that he was listening.

"Please, no more stomping."

L just grinned.

* * *

AN: I think Wammy's intentions are both good and kind of not. But at least L had someone at his back.

Next: Apocalypse Please

Summary: **Apocalypse: **_Anything viewed as a revelation; a disclosure._** Please:**_ (used as a polite addition to requests, commands, etc.) if you would be so obliging._ **Apocalypse Please:**_ Get a clue already, Ryuuzaki!_ [Sources - Webster's and Yagami Raito]

See you then. :)

16 Dec. '08


	2. II Apocalypse Please

AN: OMG!!!1!1!!!1 She actually updated! :O! What can I say? I'm teh suck… Honestly, though, I'm feeling a wee burnt-out at the moment, 'specially on DN stuff. So updates'll be slow.

I think I may have confused some of you with my summary of this collection. If so, I apologize profusely. These fics are entirely unrelated to each other. Some are canon, some are AU. They take place at different times and with different characters. The only common thread they hold is their relation to the Muse song they're named after, which I'll admit is tenuous at best in some cases (including "Intro" – it's the first track of the album). So again, sorry if there was any confusion! ^_^;

* * *

**Title:** Apocalypse Please

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Humor/Romance

**Summary: **[AU] **Apocalypse**: _Anything viewed as a revelation; a disclosure_. **Please**: _(used as a polite addition to requests, commands, etc.) if you would be so obliging._ **Apocalypse Please**: _Get a clue already, Ryuuzaki!_ [Sources – Webster's and Yagami Raito]

**Warnings:** Um, a 13-year-old boy hitting on a 19-year-old one?

**Notes:** Just so there's no confusion, Raito is not schizophrenic or hearing voices, he's just talking to himself. You can't tell me you don't do that, too. :)

* * *

After the door to his room closed, Raito counted out approximately one and a half minutes.

… _eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety._

_WHAM._

"Owww…" he groaned into his table, the surface upon which he had just banged his forehead. "That was stupid." A dry chuckle. "It must be contagious. And now I'm talking to myself out loud. Even better." He sighed and rolled his head back and forth, banging it lightly a few more times.

He just didn't get it, he really didn't. He was aware that some intelligent people had difficulty relating to other human beings, difficulty picking up the unspoken messages broadcasted through body language. Of course, Raito himself was not plagued in this fashion, but he could certainly understand it.

What he _could not_ understand was someone being as completely and utterly and _hopelessly_ clueless as Ryuuzaki. For pity's sake, _no one_ could be that oblivious, could they? Was he lacking the flirt gene entirely?

_It's probably just_ you.

Raito fisted his hair, propping his elbows on the desk. _You shut up. You're not helping._

_Just saying. Clearly your methods aren't working. This calls for outside help. You know what I mean._

Raito groaned at himself. _Oh, maaaaaan…._ He indulged in a few more minutes of groaning and grumbling then sighed and got up from the table, leaving his room and shuffling reluctantly to another, two doors removed. The door was open but he knocked anyway before he entered to draw the attention of the room's occupant.

"Nii-chan!" His little sister looked up at him from her bed where she was sitting cross-legged, reading a book. "Did Ryuu-chan go already?"

Raito grimaced at her, cringing inwardly at the pet name. _Ryuu-chan … I'd never get away with that._ "Yeah, he left a little while ago."

Sayu sighed, putting her book down and stretching her legs out in front of her. She leaned back on her hands and idly wiggled her feet as she said, in the vaguely whiny but cute way only girls seemed to manage, "I wish he could stay longer. He's so smart and so polite and so funny and so adorable."

Raito pulled a face. "Adorable?" Not that he didn't necessarily agree – he just thought it was an odd thing to say. Or rather, an odd thing to hear coming out of his sister's mouth.

"Yeah!" Sayu insisted. "Totally adorable! His eyes are so wide and his hair's so messy and interesting and he makes the cutest faces!" Again she sighed, histrionically. "I wish he was _my_ tutor."

The face Raito made this time was considerably more violent and disturbed. "Sayu, he's ten years older than you!"

_And almost seven years older than you…._

_Shut up!_

The girl pouted. "So? At least then I'd get to look at him a lot more. Lucky Nii-chan…." It was only by his ever-increasing skills at hiding his true emotions that Raito was able to keep a blush from forming.

_I cannot believe I'm in here, having this conversation, about to ask what I'm about to ask. Stupid Ryuuzaki!_

It had all started about two months ago when Raito's parents decided to hire a tutor for him. He was entering his second year of junior high, and though he was top of his class and having no difficulties (nor, he thought, was he likely to) his parents wished to ensure that he would _stay_ in his high position as his classes grew more strenuous and he prepared for high school entrance exams. Raito had protested very briefly, but when it became clear that they would not be swayed, he acquiesced to their desires as he generally did. After all, he figured, he could probably send the tutor packing pretty quickly if he or she proved too irritating.

But it wasn't any old student who showed up to do the job, it was Ryuuzaki. Ryuuzaki, who looked more like a college drop-out than a student holding place at the top of his majors. (_Majors_, plural.) Ryuuzaki, who didn't treat Raito like he was wonderful and special and brilliant, just because. Ryuuzaki, who respected Raito's intelligence but didn't hesitate to cut him down when he was wrong or argue with him when they disagreed on a point. Ryuuzaki, who was wonderful and special and brilliant himself, witty and wry, quirky and, yes, even adorable.

It was that last quality, or the realization thereof, that had Raito reconsidering exactly why it was that he enjoyed spending time with Ryuuzaki. It wasn't just because he was smart and funny or the way he treated Raito. It was because Raito found Ryuuzaki attractive. He wasn't sure what in particular he liked, whether it was his appearance, unusual as it was, his mind, his actions or a combination of those qualities. And, truthfully, for a little while Raito wasn't sure about his own feelings. He'd never really felt attracted to anyone before but then he was only just entering the stage of life where that sort of thing would probably become fairly common. So maybe it was just because Ryuuzaki happened to have been in the right place at the time, so to speak.

Ultimately, however, Raito decided that the _why_ didn't really matter. He liked Ryuuzaki and as far as he was concerned Ryuuzaki was an excellent catch. If only he could catch him.

Raito's immediate concern had been that he would lose Ryuuzaki as a tutor before he even had the chance to try and win him over. He was doing quite well in all his classes and it was clear he really had no need of extra lessons. So in a fit of stupidity he acted … well, _stupid_, purposely misunderstanding things and making careless mistakes. It was a short-lived effort as Ryuuzaki picked up quickly on what he was doing.

"Raito-kun," he had said, "I'm not going to stop teaching you just because you understand this material. If this is too easy for you then we'll just keeping moving on until we find something you don't immediately comprehend. I'm sure that exists somewhere." And then he'd smiled at Raito whose heart fluttered in an embarrassing way and cheeks pinkened lightly.

That fear allayed, Raito then concentrated on trying to get Ryuuzaki to look at him in a way _other_ than as a mere student. But it seemed as though his attempts thus far weren't working at all. Truth be told, Raito wasn't sure he was doing it right anyway. After all, he'd never tried to win someone's attentions before and really had no idea what he ought to be doing. Which was why he was now in his little sister's room, barely keeping himself from fleeing in terror.

"Sayu…." He ground his teeth, his body's natural defense to keep the words from leaving his mouth.

_Oh, just suck it up and spit it out, already! Do you want him or not?_

"…What do you do when … when you like a boy?"

Sayu gave him a confused look, sitting up and crossing her legs again. "Huh? Why do you want to know that?"

"You're my little sister. And I want to know what to be on the look-out for so if I see you doing any of those things, I can make sure the guy deserves your attention." It was actually a partial truth. Raito _did_ care a great deal about his little sister and even though he thought she was far too young for that sort of thing, it didn't mean that she wouldn't be starting to form crushes and chasing after boys. Mostly though … mostly he was just looking for anything that might help in his quest.

Sayu giggled and blushed. "Nii-chaaaan!... Promise you aren't going scare them all off!"

" 'Them all?' How many boys are you interested in, Sayu?" Raito demanded, momentarily distracted by the thought of his baby sister being swept away by a horde of boys or something equally ridiculous and distressing.

"None really. At least right now. I meant for the future. I _do_ wanna have a boyfriend someday!"

_Yeah, me, too._ "Oh, alright. Well, it depends on the boy. If he's good enough for you, then I won't say anything."

"Nii-chan! You're so over-protective!" She sounded annoyed but she was also blushing and trying very hard to hide a smile that Raito let know she was actually pleased by his concern. Raito crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, smiling.

"So tell me: What is it you do?"

"Weeeeell…." Sayu cocked her head to the side, looking up at the ceiling rather than meeting his eyes, and started playing with her fingers. "I guess would try to get to know him, spend a lot of time with him."

"Right…." No help there – he was already doing that.

"And I would probably wear really cute outfits so he'd notice me. And I'd give him lots of compliments and find out what kind of things he likes so that I could share them with him. And bat my eyelashes and smile a lot and stand or sit close to him. Um, and maybe put my hand on his arm or something." She was blushing furiously now and it was only by concentrated force that Raito wasn't as well.

"Right … so … I'll be watching for any smiling and eye-batting from now on."

"Nii-chaaaaan…" she protested again, trying – and more or less failing – to sound exasperated. The smile Raito sent her way was full of fondness.

"Did you finish your homework?" he asked, changing the subject. With a smile, she picked up the book she'd been reading and wiggled it at him. "Oh. I'll stop interrupting you then."

"That's okay, Nii-chan! You can always come to me when you have questions." Her smile morphed into a grin that Raito didn't like _at all_. It was an awfully _knowing_ grin and he suddenly felt the need to flee surging once again.

"I'll keep that in mind," he promised, backing slowly through the door as though dealing with a dangerous animal rather than a 22-kilogram girl. "Goodnight, Sayu."

"Goodniiiiiight, Nii-chan." Safely out in the hall now, Raito quickly closed the door on his sister's lingering giggles.

_Well, that was frightening._

_At least you got a little out of it._

_Not much. "Wear cute outfits?" "Bat my eyelashes?" I can't do that stuff! Maybe … maybe I should, though…. If I could find a … a girl's school uniform or something…. Aaagh! No no no!! There's no way I'm doing that!_

_Look, you have a couple ideas of your own and combined with what she told you, especially about the "sitting close" thing…._

_Yeah…. But I _like_ that table…._

Raito sighed. This was getting a little complicated. But, he supposed, in trying to capture a heart, certain sacrifices had to be made. So then, time to pull out all the stops. First, he needed to talk to his parents….

-XOX-

When Ryuuzaki stepped into Raito's room three days later, automatically slipping out of his house slippers and leaving them by the door, his wide eyes lit with surprise as he took in the changes that had been made. One of his small (adorable) smiles curved his lips as he observed,

"You've been redecorating, Raito-kun."

"Um, yeah, well, I thought it might be better to study at a desk. Get up off the floor." That was a total lie. Raito had _loved_ his table – it was square, wide and very low, perfect for spreading out many different reference materials all at once. And he had no problem sitting seiza or cross-legged on a cushion to do his work.

The problem with the table was that Ryuuzaki always sat across from him, usually sprawled casually with one knee up, reaching over with a long arm if he needed to point something out. Raito didn't necessarily mind that arrangement – he liked looking at Ryuuzaki. But if he wanted to be closer to Ryuuzaki (and he did) then things would have to change. Hence the desk. The modestly-sized, narrow desk that held his PC and a few books or notebooks and not much else. The desk that two people could sit at but only if they were squeezed rather close together.

"I hope that's alright," Raito continued a little apprehensively, fingering a button. Another part of the plan. He didn't know how to dress "cutely" so instead he just tried to wear something that he thought he looked particularly nice in. To that end he'd selected a well-fitted buttoned shirt (leaving the top two open) and a pair of his tighter jeans. Of course he'd also made sure that the rest of his appearance was spotless, not a hair out of place. Really, he didn't think he could get any better looking than he was now. Hopefully, it worked for Ryuuzaki.

The young man in question was looking at him and smiling fondly. At the moment, he seemed to be fixated on Raito's undone buttons. Ugh, what if he'd miscalculated? Sure, Ryuuzaki was always pretty slovenly, but that didn't mean that he liked to see it in other people. Should Raito try to discreetly do them up?

"Um, Ryuuzaki?" Strands of raven hair wisped in gentle movement as Ryuuzaki suddenly shook his head lightly, like he was rousing himself.

"It's perfectly fine, Raito-kun," he answered as though he hadn't missed a beat. "You look well in that shirt," he added around the thumb that had worked its way between his lips.

"Thanks," Raito responded easily. Inside, though, he was all jubilance.

_It worked! He likes the way I'm dressed!_

_Don't get too excited. It's not like he's never complimented the way you look before._ Raito deflated a little.

_True…._

"So what shall we be working on today?" Ryuuzaki inquired as he took his seat at the desk next to Raito. The piece of furniture was another careful consideration on Raito's part. Knowing that Ryuuzaki tended to sit in anything other than a proper manner and wanting to make him as comfortable as possible – because a comfortable Ryuuzaki would be a receptive Ryuuzaki, right? – Raito had managed to scrape up a fluffy, soft pouf-like piece, narrow enough to fit at the desk, but wide enough for Ryuuzaki to curl up on. Which he did, one knee up as usual, the other leg tucked underneath.

"I thought English today," Raito suggested. While he excelled in most everything, and actually did for his class level in English as well, he still had a great deal to learn. He was nowhere near fluent, which Ryuuzaki was. Not only was Ryuuzaki fluent, but he was also adept at accents. There were a variety he occasionally indulged in, but Raito's favorite was the plummy British English. For the purposes of tutoring, Ryuuzaki generally used the flatter northeastern American accent for Raito to mimic. But, upon request, he would also recite things so that Raito could listen to him speaking and the British was most often entreated.

Ryuuzaki bobbed his head. "Very well. Would you like to continue with naming objects, like we did last time?"

"Yeah and I also thought, maybe, we could work on verbs? I could say a word and you'd perform the action? Reinforce it for me?"

"That sounds fine," Ryuuzaki nodded again. "Let's begin."

"Yes, _Sensei_." It was something Raito occasionally called Ryuuzaki, usually in a somewhat facetious manner. This time he did it a little differently, though, a finger between his lips, head down so he was peering up through his bangs coyly (he hoped), his voice sweet.

The effect produced was … interesting, but unfortunately not what Raito was looking for. Ryuuzaki's eyes widened briefly and he pulled his other leg up, wrapping an arm around his knees and shifting slightly away from Raito. It seemed like his cheeks were a little flushed, too, but Raito couldn't be sure about that.

_Well, that worked _perfectly_. He's supposed to get _closer_, not move away. I _knew_ I shouldn't have looked at that stupid shojo manga!_

_Alright, so that didn't work. You're not out of options yet…._ Raito sighed inwardly.

"So, what first?" he inquired aloud. Ryuuzaki opened his mouth, closed it again, cleared his throat, and then simply pointed at the window.

"_Window_," Raito dutifully responded in English. Now at the bed.

"_Bed. Door. Chaiah_."

"Harder on the '_R_'," Ryuuzaki corrected.

"_Chair_."

"Better." They continued around the room in that fashion, Ryuuzaki making adjustments where required, Raito occasionally needing to ask for assistance when they happened upon an object that he hadn't yet learned the word for.

After they'd gone through the better part of the items in Raito's bedroom, they took a brief respite for tea, Ryuuzaki loading his with a handful of sugar cubes as usual while Raito took his plain. He certainly didn't need any added sweetness, especially considering his next ploy. _Share his interests_, Sayu had said. To that end, Raito pulled out a lollipop he'd stashed on his desk, unwrapped it, and began licking it delicately then sliding it into his mouth and humming contentedly.

After a moment he became aware that Ryuuzaki had gone quite still beside him. He looked up at him and smiled around the stick in his mouth, sliding it out with a faint _pop_ to say,

"You like these don't you? I thought I'd try one – it's pretty nice."

"…Yes." For some reason, Ryuuzaki's voice sounded a little hoarse. Maybe the tea had been too hot. Ugh! And he was crouching and shifting away from Raito again! Was _nothing_ going to work? Why couldn't Ryuuzaki pick up on anything? It was terribly frustrating.

"Um, should we go on to the next part?" Raito offered. "I have a list of words…."

"Yes, that would probably be a good idea. I hope you didn't choose anything too difficult to perform, Raito-kun," Ryuuzaki added, a hint of teasing in his voice now.

Raito smiled smugly. "You'll just have to see. Alright then…." Flipping open a notebook, he found the page with the words although he really didn't need it – he'd memorized the list already.

"_Smile_." Ryuuzaki's lips obediently curved and Raito took a few seconds to admire the expression before moving on.

"_Drink_." A sip out of the teacup.

"_Clap._" They worked steadily down the list, Raito trying to pay attention but becoming increasingly tense the closer they got toward the end. If Ryuuzaki didn't pick up on _this_ … well, then he was probably a lost cause.

"Um, _tickle_." Raito didn't really _want_ to be tickled, but if it got Ryuuzaki touching him, put his mind in the right direction….

Ryuuzaki blinked at him for a moment but then reached out with that long limb and ghosted his fingers along Raito's side, producing a squirm and a noise that was both irritated and amused. The amusement quickly faded though as he steeled himself for the next word. _This is it…._

"…_Kiss_," he spoke quietly, unable to look up and met Ryuuzaki's eyes right away.

When he did his stomach sank. It was clear from the look on Ryuuzaki's face that he'd finally caught on to Raito's game, finally understood how Raito felt. And he didn't feel the same way. Why else would he be giving Raito that look which seemed to be a mixture of guilt and regret?

"Raito-kun…" Ryuuzaki began.

"It's because I'm a boy, isn't it?" Raito demanded, trying to keep the hurt and dejectedness out of his voice. Ryuuzaki gave him a look as though he'd just declared himself ruler of the world and henceforth outlawed sugar cubes.

"No, not exactly. I mean, the male part, no; the boy part, _yes_."

"Huh?" Raito really couldn't manage anything more intelligent than that – Ryuuzaki's seeming incoherence had totally confounded him.

"You're thirteen years old, Raito-kun!" Slowly, comprehension began to trickle in, leaving warmth of hope in its wake.

"Then … you don't mind that I'm a boy?" he questioned tentatively, the hope in his eyes. Ryuuzaki's own eyes softened as he stared back.

"No, that doesn't really matter to me. But … you're _thirteen_, Raito-kun. And your parents are paying me to tutor you, not molest you." Raito blushed rather furiously at that though he tried to contain it.

"I'm not asking you to … _molest_ me. I just want you to like me."

"I _do_ like you, Raito-kun."

"I mean _like_ me, like me." Ryuuzaki chuckled.

"I _do_ _like_ you, like you. Even though it's wrong and stupid, I can't help myself." Raito was instantly incensed.

"_Why_ is it 'wrong and stupid'?" he demanded. "I don't think there's anything wrong about it! And certainly nothing stupid!"

Ryuuzaki frowned. "I'm almost seven years older than you, Raito-kun. I can't take advantage of you like that. It's not fair to you. You should be with someone your own age, not conflicted by my influence, intentional or otherwise." Raito cast him a look that clearly asked _Are you a moron?_ and implied that Ryuuzaki had just insulted both of their intelligences.

"Do you _really_ think I would let you 'take advantage' of me, in any way?" he asked, emphasizing his sarcasm with air quotes. Ryuuzaki's lips quirked.

"No," he answered after a pause. "I don't truly think so."

"I like you," Raito stated simply. "You're intelligent and funny and interesting and good-looking. I like talking with you and being taught by you and fighting with you and even doing nothing at all but being around you. And I really don't think I'll ever find anyone better than you to be with. And I don't want to." The last was stated with assurance and just a little defiance.

Ryuuzaki smiled a little ruefully. "You might change your mind about that. But even if you don't, Raito-kun, I just can't … I wouldn't feel right…."

"I'm not asking you to do anything," Raito put forth again. "But, just for clarity's sake … when would you feel comfortable … doing something?" He felt ridiculously vague but since he had no idea what Ryuuzaki thought would be crossing the line that was the best he could do.

"Raito-kun…." Ryuuzaki sounded a little exasperated and something else Raito couldn't quite place.

"It's a fair question."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Ryuuzaki admitted after a pause. There followed another as he stared at Raito, the barest traces of conflicting expressions flitting across his face. "I probably wouldn't feel comfortable," he finally began slowly, "until you were at least sixteen. But—"

"Alright then," Raito interrupted, nodding his head like they'd just struck a deal. "Sixteen it is. And then you'll start dating me properly. I can wait that long."

"I didn't exactly mean it that—"

"Will you wait for me?" he interrupted again, eyes meeting Ryuuzaki's earnestly. "I'll wait for you; will you wait for me?" There was another long pause as Ryuuzaki searched his gaze, looking, Raito supposed, for sincerity and certainty.

"Yes," he quietly agreed. "I'll wait for you." Positively beaming at him, Raito lunged forward to wrap his arms around Ryuuzaki's torso and nestle his head happily into his thin chest. Ryuuzaki made strange choking noises for a few moments before tentatively curling his own arms around Raito smaller frame.

"You're going to be the death of me," he mumbled into Raito's hair. The young teen pulled back, grinning.

"Aww, _Sensei_…" he drawled out with a finger at his lips, arching his back a little and smiling in what he hoped was a sultry way. It seemed to work as Ryuuzaki hissed out a breath and shifted restlessly.

"Stop that right now," he warned, "or I will be forced to gag you."

"Promise?" Raito asked with wide eyes.

"Raito-kun!"

"Just kidding! I'll behave, I promise. So," he smiled beguilingly, "will you recite something for me?" Ryuuzaki smiled back.

"Of course. Anything in particular?"

"Nope. You can pick." While Ryuuzaki cast his eyes up to the ceiling for a moment, no doubt deciding what piece he wanted to do, Raito pushed his chair closer so that he could scoot over on the edge and sit as close as possible. Apparently having picked something, Ryuuzaki began his recital in a low clear tone, faltering briefly partway through when Raito scooted closer still to snuggle against his side. But he recovered quickly, even hesitantly put an arm around Raito's shoulders, his hand gently and idly toying with strands of Raito's hair.

"_Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,/And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor./Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow/From my books surcease of sorrow…."_

Raito listened only partially to the words, more letting the pleasant tones vibrate through him as he leaned against Ryuuzaki, feeling his warmth and hearing his heart, becoming lulled into a very relaxed state. He really hoped Ryuuzaki wouldn't ask for a synopsis afterward as he was occasionally wont to do because Raito hadn't a _clue_ what he was saying.

And then, before he realized it, Ryuuzaki had stopped speaking and was merely sitting there, still absentmindedly playing with Raito's hair. Their pleasantly relaxed state emboldened Raito to ask something he was almost certain would be denied – but he had to try.

"Ryuuzaki?" he began softly, pulling away a little to look into the young man's face.

"Hmm?"

"Would you … give me a kiss?" Ryuuzaki drew away with a stern expression on his face and a warning tone in his voice.

"Raito-kun…."

"Just that, just once. I promise I won't ask you for anything else for the next three years. Please?" A long moment passed as they simply stared at one another, Ryuuzaki searching, Raito allowing it. Finally, Ryuuzaki sighed, the breath ruffling Raito's bangs lightly. He muttered something under his breath in English that Raito didn't quite catch, although he thought he picked out the words "going" and "Hell," and then Ryuuzaki was laying his hands on either side of Raito's face and leaning down.

Raito wasn't sure entirely what he had been expecting but he was pretty sure that this exceeded whatever it was. The kiss was entirely chaste, close-mouthed, dry, but Ryuuzaki's lips were so soft and warm and he was handling Raito so tenderly and it was _Ryuuzaki_…. When they broke apart, Raito was unconsciously beaming, which seemed to have quite the effect on Ryuuzaki who sucked in a breath and removed his hands.

"Definitely the death of me," he reiterated under his breath, turning away to pull his knees up again and chew vigorously on a thumb. Raito couldn't help a giggle at that.

"So … three years?" A half-smile curved Ryuuzaki's lips, dark eyes gleaming beneath his unruly raven fringe.

"I suppose so."

"It's a date then. February 28, 2002. You better be ready!" The look in Raito's eyes was surprisingly steely.

Ryuuzaki just chuckled.

-XOX-

_February 28, 2002_

When Ryuuzaki arrived home at his apartment, it was to discover a figure bundled up in a thick coat and fluffy scarf crouching by his door. Hearing his footsteps, the figure looked up and Ryuuzaki found himself staring at Raito's smiling and chill-bitten face. Raito stood and once again Ryuuzaki couldn't help but think about how tall he'd gotten, very nearly Ryuuzaki's own height now.

"Raito-kun," he greeted somewhat warily. "What are you doing here?" Raito grinned at him with a touch of smugness.

"I think you know what today is," was his answer. Ryuuzaki felt a pang in his stomach and it was guilt and longing and a hint of excitement.

"I seem to have misplaced my calendar," he evaded, stepping forward to unlock his door and hide his face. "And my grasp on what day of the week it is is often shaky. But I believe it is Thursday?" He stiffened, hand on the doorknob, when he felt Raito step close behind him. _So tall…._

"It's my sixteenth birthday," Raito murmured right against his ear and Ryuuzaki shivered. "I've waited for you, and now I want my birthday present. _Sensei_." A groan nearly escaped Ryuuzaki's parted lips. God, this boy was going to become absolutely _sinful_ if he let him. Should he…?

Ryuuzaki turned around, hands behind him braced on the doorknob, both to keep him steady and to keep him from touching. Raito moved a little closer yet, practically pinning Ryuuzaki to the door by his presence and the unconsciously seductive smile on his face. At least, he was pretty sure it was unconscious. It had to be, right? Where the hell would he have learned something like that? A prick of jealousy threatened but he quickly squashed down. Raito had never been with anyone else, he _knew_ he hadn't, even if he probably _should_ have been….

_Corruption of a minor, corruption of a minor, corruption of a minor_. Though the mantra was meant to be a deterrent it seemed to be having quite the opposite effect. _Gah. Maybe that stupid blond in my Art History was right. Maybe I _am_ a pervert…._ The question was, did he really care?

"Are you going to give me my birthday present?" Raito asked in a low voice, positively radiating pheromones.

"Are you going to keep calling me 'sensei'?" Damn! That wasn't what he meant to ask!

Raito's smile somehow became even more irresistible. "Whatever you want … _Sensei_."

Of their own accord Ryuuzaki's hands sprang off the doorknob and threaded their fingers in Raito's hair to pull his face to Ryuuzaki's and seal their lips together. It was an entirely different experience than their first and only other kiss. Nerves tingled, bellies filled with fire, joy coursed through veins as Ryuuzaki's mouth taught Raito's what to do, the teenager learning very quickly.

Ryuuzaki indulged himself – or rather, them both – for a little while before pulling away breathlessly to smile hazily at Raito's glowing features.

"_Happy Birthday, Light_," he murmured in English, stroking a thumb along Raito's flushed and warmed cheek.

"Thanks, Ryuuzaki. Do I get the rest of my present now?" Ryuuzaki smirked at the persistence, his hand scuttling behind him to find and twist the doorknob.

"Depends how well you learn your lessons," he teased, pushing the door open and backing into the space, pulling a grinning Raito with him.

* * *

AN: So who's _really_ the clueless one? :D

The quote was, of course, from Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven." I'm probably going to go to some kind of literary Hell for admitting this, but I absolutely love The Simpson's version of it. Hearing it recited by Homer is just too funny and there's nothing cuter than Bart as the raven (except maybe Judas as a flying goat). ^_^

Next: Time Is Running Out

Summary:_Dear Diary: Today I saw someone die. And it was … amazing. -B_

18 Jan. '09


	3. XI The Small Print

AN: You may notice this is not, in fact, Time Is Running Out, which ought to be next. The truth is, I am nowhere near done on that one, frankly haven't worked on it in a while. However, I have been sitting on this part of the fic for almost a year (as it is impossible for me to work linearly) and I just want it out there. So I apologize for the confusion. Maybe when I get on this piece again, I'll take this part down and put it in its proper place. But for now, please enjoy and heed the rating.

Also, I've joined LJ and started posting some things there. So far only things that I've posted here, but Ascendancy will be going there at some point as well and I will _not_ be posting that one here. The link to my LJ spot is in my profile.

* * *

**Title:** The Small Print

**Rating:** M for language and context, I suppose

**Genre:** Angst/Romance

**Summary:** Raito always has a great deal to say to L. Too bad he's not around to hear it.

**Warnings**: Profanity, mentions of male/male sex

* * *

God, I fucking hate coming here, I really do. It's some kind of compulsion that drives me to do it, something I don't completely understand and would prefer to ignore but … so far I haven't. Every year, on the same dates – April 3rd, June 1st, August 13th, November 5th, and December 5th. It's more than you deserve, far more, but … like I said, it's a compulsion.

I hate weaving through the stones, hate knowing that under my feet are decaying bodies, futilely preserved in tiny boxes for … what exactly? Do their relatives plan on digging them up periodically just to make sure that, yes, they _are_, in fact, still dead? Do they _really _need to hold on to that one last piece of physical evidence? And talk about a waste of space. At this rate, half the planet will be a graveyard. I'm glad they'll burn me when I go. But of course that will be a long long time from now.

I don't know why they gave you a cross. Actually, to be perfectly frank, I don't know why they bothered to bury you. It's not like we knew anything about you. Maybe you wanted to be mummified and displayed in a museum. Maybe you wanted to be hurled into space. Maybe you wanted to be tied to a boulder and sunk to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Really, who knows with you?

Mostly, though, when I say I don't know why they bothered, I mean I don't know why they bothered to do _anything_ for you. Some misplaced feelings of respect and probably guilt, I guess. And I suppose we couldn't very well leave your corpse hanging around the building…. Not that we ended up doing anything with it anyway. Sometimes it bothers me, thinking about it, about the rooms I used to live in, with _you_, unused, gathering dust and stale air, preserved in its own sort of way….

"Raaaaaitooooo! How long are you going to be here? This is boring!" God! Can't he shut up for one fucking minute?! I regret being stuck with him, but, given the couple other options I've seen, he's probably the _least_ aggravating pain in the ass. Doesn't say much for the shinigami as a whole.

"I don't _know_ how long I'll be here. Go find something else to do for a while." I hate that I have to put my hand over my face, like I'm grieving, to talk to him. Then again, it's probably not bad for appearances.

Do you know that when I sit here, on top of your grave, eyes closed, head back against your marker, I imagine some kind of phantasm of you comes to sit beside me? That should probably irritate me, concern me, but it doesn't. I sit here beside you and remember.

On the good days, I remember our battle. The steps we took to get closer to each other, break down the protective shields we had built without revealing ourselves in turn. Traps laid, taunts subtly and not-so-subtly thrown, parts acted. You had some good moves, I'll admit it. The entrance ceremony still rankles. But it didn't matter in the end, did it? I still won and that's what makes looking back on those times so pleasing now. I can sit beside you, quiet for once, and just remember. It's probably the most amicable we've ever been.

On the bad days, though … that's when I remember the _other_ things. The things that make me want to turn to that phantom of yours, wrap my hands around your neck and choke the life right out of you, again and again. I suppose I can't be too angry about working with you, actually helping you. No, not at all, because that was my whole plan. Being genuinely friendly with you on occasion would even be a natural side-effect, unfortunate but true. But the fucking….

Well, God! What did you expect?? You fucking chained me to you, you twisted son-of-a-bitch! What did you _think_ would happen? Still, if I had known, I would have thought of something else, come up with a different plan. _Anything_ so that I wouldn't be plagued by these memories.

Against the wall, your strong legs wrapped around my waist like a vise, one hand clenched on my shoulder while the other scrabbles along the wall for purchase, my fingers gripping your hips so hard there will be bruises later.

In the stairwell, my pants around my ankles, my hands holding on to the railing so tightly my knuckles are bone-white while the edge of my shirt is clamped between my teeth to keep the cries and screams from echoing as you mercilessly pound into me.

On the bed, rolling and pushing and struggling and thrusting until we collapse in a heap of flushed, sweaty skin, too exhausted and weakened to even muster up enough movement to get _away_ from each other.

The one time in the shower which ended in us having to bandage each other up as the combination of water-slick skin and surfaces and our violence proved too dangerous.

It was always fucking – never love-making, never sex, not even screwing. We were always so angry, which made it so violent, so intense and unexpected. I'd walk through the door only to have you slam me up against it. You'd close your laptop and get up from the desk only to have me pushing you up against the window. We never even kissed. Except that once. And that's part of what has me so angry, so _maddened_.

Because, as much as I want to deny it, as much as I want to _forget_, I know that part of the reason we always fucked was because we _couldn't_ make love. And sometimes … we wanted to. We _wanted_ to be gentle with each other, wanted to show … _something_ deeper than a physical need or some sort of bizarre competition, an undeniable impulse. But … we couldn't. Because of who we were and what it was and where it was all inevitably going to end. And that just made us angrier and so we took it out on each other. Really, sometimes I can't believe one of us didn't end up dead _before_ my plan played through. Wouldn't that have been something? Death by sex…. I have to say, that's one I've never used.

I think maybe I come to this place out of some vague, irrational hope that I can leave those memories here, with your corpse and your wraith. Especially that one. The one time we _tried_ to show something else.

I still don't know why it happened. Like everything else, it was just one of those spontaneous things. And every day I keep hoping that the memory will fade, piece by piece, until I can shove it away somewhere and _not_ think about it. But it's still crystal clear, still invades my thoughts at the least expected moments, making me grit my teeth and rub my forehead like I can work it out of there with my fingertips.

Early in the morning, cold saffron light trying to break through the blinds. You were dressed, sitting at the desk in your stupid crouch, watching me. I was zipping up my shirt, watching you. Why were we so fixated on each other that morning? Neither of us had said or done anything, but our eyes were locked on each other like magnets. When I was finished and had brushed a comb through my hair, you stood up and came over to put that damn metal restraint back on me. (And by the way, would it have killed you to have padded the cuff? You know, I still have a mark.)

We were still staring at each other. God, why were we doing that? Maybe if I had said something or if you had, nothing would have happened. But we didn't, we just kept looking as though we had never seen each other before. And you didn't have to step that close to me. You could have kept your distance, you didn't need to be right up against me like that. If you hadn't, we wouldn't have been able to lean forward, close what little bit of space was left between us.

If it had been wild, a little desperate like everything else we did, maybe the memory wouldn't be so chafing. But it wasn't. It _wasn't_. It was gentle and soft and … fucking _kind_. Like something we'd been doing the whole time, we'd always done, _natural_. Our lips parted, our tongues found their ways into each other's mouths, tasting and exploring and _connecting_. It was the only place we were touching, despite how close our bodies were, but it was enough. More than enough.

And then it was over and that was that. We never did it again, never talked about it, never even acknowledged that it had ever happened. But now I'm forced to carry that one incident around like a fucking shard of glass embedded in my body, every once in a while shifting to stab me anew and remind me of its presence.

I don't want to have that connection with you. I want to remember only the things I _want_ to remember. Like the way you looked when your heart stopped, the breath left your body, your eyes finally closed forever. Do you know how beautiful you were like that? I wanted you so badly in that moment. Not like _that_. I'm not that disturbed. I just wanted to keep you, preserve you just like that in a glass case somewhere so that I could look at you, still and silent, defeated, _mine_. Like a trophy, a … shrine, to my triumph.

But no. You're here, rotting in the ground under a nameless stone (and I now know the name that _should_ be on it, although it doesn't mean anything to me anymore). In way, though, it's hard to imagine that you don't look exactly the same as you did that day. There's something timeless about you. In my more ridiculous moments I imagine that you simply appeared in the world looking as you did the day I met you, never changing at all. Why do you inspire such weird thoughts?

I wish that I smoked so that I could put the butt out on your stone and then drop it on your grave. But I'm not carrying a cigarette or a lighter, just a rose wrapped in green tissue paper and tied with a green ribbon (the clerk took the time to curl the ribbon, too, a wasted effort). It's long-stemmed. And red. Just because.

I suppose I shouldn't keep fingering it like this or I'll ruin the petals, but it feels nice. Nicer than you ever did. And this petal … it feels smooth against my skin, my cheek, the way you never did, soft against my lips, like—

What's that game? He loves me, he loves me not? My version is Will I see him again, or Will I not? I suppose I already know the answer to that but I'm pulling the petals off anyway. According to Ryuukku there is no Heaven or Hell, we're all just going nowhere. I guess that should depress me but at least I know I'll be leaving the world a much better place than the one I came into. I'll be revered and worshipped. Not like you. Snuffed out after only twenty-five years, nameless, faceless, unknown and unmourned.

Not that I really care if I see you again or not. It's just something I wonder about sometimes. And it's not like I don't have these damn memories to keep me company in lieu of your person. Memories that I'm trying to get rid of anyway. Kind of ironic that the one thing I will never do again, give up the Death Note, would take the sting of those memories away. Of course, then I would probably actually mourn your death and that would be just as pathetic.

Well, according to the rose, I _will_ be seeing you again. But what the hell do flowers know? And it's not like I care either way.

I've been here a lot longer than I thought, a lot longer than I intended. The sun's almost set. Of course, this time of the year it's always so early…. Speaking of which, I wanted to tell you that I won't be by next month. I know that's when I'm usually due but … until this thing with Mello and Near is finished, I think it's better if I don't come. Once they're taken care of, I'll be back. Maybe I'll arrange to have them buried here with you. I hope they're the last of it. It's interesting and challenging but it gets old after a while. That was a cheat, by the way, having them set up to take over. I suppose you probably think I cheated sometimes, too, but it's not my fault I knew more than you and knew how to use it to the best advantage. That's strategy, not cheating.

But I'll out-think them the way I did with you and bring them here to lie with you, three graves in a pretty little row. Maybe someday, when I've been truly accepted worldwide, I'll have this section of the cemetery specially marked, the ones who tried to oppose me and were brought down, a testament to my superiority. People will probably travel from everywhere to come and worship me here. Don't worry. I'll put up a chain or something so they aren't trampling all over you.

Anyway, I've been here too long. I have to go. Enjoy the rose. I think the petals look better, scattered like that.

Jaa ne, Eru.

* * *

AN: ^_^ Heh. Are you feelin' the crazy?

Next: Well, I'm not sure and I apologize for that. Probably Time Is Running Out.

19 Nov. '09


End file.
